


Three Days, Three Months

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Iron Squib and Other Magical Tales [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, EWE, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Minor Angst, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Captain America, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: While taking some time to visit his son Tony in Malibu, Harry receives an assignment from his overlords in the ICW unlike any other. The mission? Protect Steve Rogers from dark wizards and HYDRA agents while his best friend and roommate James Barnes is at basic training. Should be easy, right?Of course it's not. Because it's Harry Potter on the case, that's why.





	Three Days, Three Months

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wrote another one. This time starring Harry Potter and Steve Rogers.
> 
> Takes place in the same 'verse as "Connection" where Tony is a squib.

   In all the time that Harry Potter's friends knew him, they believed they knew everything about him. His fears, his hopes, his dreams.

   They believed he wanted a quiet life away from action and fighting and adventure. After all, he'd passed on his dream of becoming an auror like his father. Everyone thought it might have just been because of the things he'd had to do in the war.

   They believed he wanted to settle down - and it was very true he did - but not in the manner in which everyone around him believed was proper.

   To his friends, he was simply Harry Potter, former Gryffindor, dear friend, estranged father, and grieving war veteran.

   To the whole of the wizarding world he was Lord Hadrian James Potter-Black, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Vanquished, The Chosen One, and The Savior.

   To the Ministry of Magic he was Unspeakable Potter. To the International Confederation of Wizards he was Agent Grim of W.A.R.D.

   And to a scrawny blond punk in 1940s Brooklyn NY, he was Harry.

   Just Harry.

**o0o**

**_2008_ **

**_MALIBU_ **

 

   Harry hauled himself out of the pool and sat with his legs dangling in the water. He leaned back and propped himself up with his arms and sighed in one of the rare moments of contentment. Yes. He'd needed this vacation away from England. Away from the family and the Ministry and work and-

   "Tan is a good look on you, Hadrian," came the chipper voice that had come out to greet him. "Is Mr. Stark around?"

   Harry turned his head, black hair smelling of chlorine clinging to his face. He really ought to get a haircut soon. Didn't want to be one of those stuffy traditionalist purebloods when he reluctantly sat in on the next Wizengamot session. "Once more, Miss Potts, it's Harry. And thank you."

   "I'll call you Harry when you start calling me Pepper," she replied.

   He smiled and pulled his legs out of the water. Soon, he was toweling off and walking back inside with her. "I imagine Tony's down in the garage," he said with a shrug. "Unless he's going for round eight with the December twins."

   She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the help, Hadrian," she said, heading for the stairs.

   "It's Harry!" he called back before stopping by the kitchen for a bottle of water. Bare feet padded towards the guest rooms Tony had made sure to set aside for his occasional visits. Very little in the way of technology filled the space after the first mishap with his magic and the flat screen television that had been inside. Now there sat an old analog box on a far too elegant stand. Somehow it had been rigged so that Harry needn't touch the DVDs to watch a film, since his rather potent magic tended to erase them if he did.

   He was just getting dressed when the disembodied butler spoke up. It had taken him quite a long time to get used to the thing and not fall into an defensive battle stance when he heard it. Now, sometimes it only made him flinch a bit when he wasn't expecting it.

   "Mr. Hadrian sir, there is a large black owl sitting on the balcony railing. Shall it let it in?"

   "Sure thing," he said, pulling a faded concert tee over his head. He didn't even know what the band was - Tony tended to just shove armfuls of things at him with the claim of "helping him blend in" or some such rot.

   The glass door to the balcony slid open as he sat on the bed to pull his shoes on. The owl circled the room once, dropped an envelope beside him, and swooped back out again. He picked up the envelope, feeling the texture of the parchment under his calloused fingers with a sigh as he took in the ICW seal. He frowned, with it deepening as he read more and more of the letter.

   A small incendio in the bathroom sink took care of the missive as he groaned. "JARVIS, could you pass a private message along to Tony for me? I don't want Miss Potts to hear it."

   "Of course sir."

   "Tell him... Tell him something came up at work and I'll be gone about two days or so. During that time I'll be off the map." He went to the closet and pulled out a duffle bag, rooting through it for his work coat. Not wanting to bother with the full uniform, the special jacket and hood would do him just nicely. He grabbed his satchel out and, after donning his coat, hooked it over his head. Without another word he headed for the sliding glass door, not wishing to risk Miss Potts spotting him on his way out. JARVIS slid the door back into place, locking it behind him as he disapparated with a crack and a slight flicker of the lights in the house.

**o0o**

**_NEW YORK_ **

**_MACUSA_ **

**_Department of Mysteries_ **

 

   "Ah! There he is now!" exclaimed a young woman as Harry, hidden under the hood of his coat, pushed his way through the crowd. "Agent Grim, so good of you to join us."

   "I'm on vacation," he snapped, his voice slightly distorted thanks to the charms woven into the obscuring spell of the hood. "So this had best be worth my time."

   "I dare say it is. Daniels in the Time Chamber has a task for you."

   "I'm not a bloody hound to be ordered about."

   She sighed, rubbing her right temple as she led the way through the maze that was the American version of the ministry he usually dealt with. She led him down a corridor lined with clocks of all manner and sort save the digital and electric. "Oh Deacon!" she called out when she'd opened the door at the far end. "I've got a surprise for you!"

   Harry frowned, even as a portly man hurried down a ladder and came towards them with excitement in his eyes. "Go on Abigail. I'll take it from here."

   "I'm the MACUSA liason. I sit in-"

   "Not on this you don't. Only those directly involved or affected by the temporal anomaly can be present. You know this."

   "It's not every day a time capsule opens and spills its secrets."

   "Abby..." he warned, then turned his attention to Harry. "If you will come with me, Agent Grim. We have a very tight deadline on this."

   Soon Abigail was gone, and Harry stood staring at the sheets of paper in the black file. The black file boasting the same insignia that he bore on his coat where a name should have been. "This is certainly my handwriting. But what exactly am I looking at?"

   "It's a case report from 1943."

   "I can see that," he said, flipping through the pages and skimming them for information. "What I don't understand is why it's in my handwriting and in a time capsule. I wasn't even born yet."

   "That's the curious thing, isn't it Agent Grim," Unspeakable Deacon Daniels said, producing another two items that were in the time capsule. One was a potion. Another...

   "Is that a temporal portkey?"

   "That is exactly what it is."

   Harry sighed, staring down at the photograph of a scrawny blond punk. "This the target? He doesn't look like much of a threat to me."

   "He's the victim. There was a break in at the British Ministry. Experimental time devices were stolen," he said, ignoring Harry's snarky comment about it ALWAYS being the British Ministry getting the rest of the world into trouble. "At first it was believed to have been a rogue group of dark wizards who might have wanted to go back and visit the glory days. But we have reason to believe, thanks to that case file, that they were the pawns. There's a muggle organization behind this, but they are very resourceful and wily."

   Harry went through the file a little more carefully now. "Wait... I know this name. He was a good friend of... Howard Stark, correct?"

   Unspeakable Daniels nodded. "Yes. And someone is out to kill him before he ever becomes Captain America."

   He closed the file and moved to the desk, setting it down. "What's the window here?" he asked.

   "Three months."

   "So three days. Well that's bloody inconvenient. That's a sizeable chunk of my vacation." He sighed and shook his head. "But I suppose it's no use arguing. Am I to assume all the appropriate documentation is prepared?"

   Daniels nodded. "All we need is a drop of your blood to make the fake IDs and you're set. You'll be appearing in Room 13 in sub basement 2. Immediately from there, you report back to this chamber and show your documentation. You'll get special clearance under the Capsule Protocols so that MACUSA does not interfere. Your organization has already agreed that you are to eliminate the threat to Captain Rogers' life with extreme prejudice. This means all Unforgivables are on the table."

   Harry nearly dropped his hood at that. Not that it mattered since Daniels already knew his identity due to the file. "Blimey. I knew he was important and all but wow. Okay. That's not quite the level of severity I was expecting."

   "He's a national icon. We take his welfare very seriously."

**o0o**

**_1943_ **

**_NYC_ **

 

   His words were half-whispered, sometimes shouted as he slung one red hex after the other over the trash cans.

   Green eyes caught sight of the time on his wrist. The seconds ticked by. One month down on shadow duty. He jumped up when he saw the green curse soar overhead. Avada green.

   "Oh that is not on!" he snarled, the Sectumsempra falling off his tongue so easily. So casually as if it came naturally and wasn't a stolen spell from an old potion's book. He winced as the top of the assailant's head was sliced off, the body collapsing to the pavement.

   He brushed himself off, sighed, and checked around to ensure none of the muggles were the wiser. He threw around a few scourgify and tidied up the body for collection. Firing off a patronus with a message for his partner for his particular sojourn to the past, he snatched the time turner from around the man's neck and smashed it to bits before melting the metal down to slag.

   "Tempus," he muttered, checking the time. "Shit! I'm late!"

   A crack and he was gone before the collection team had even left the office.

   Moments later, back in a small flat in Brooklyn, Harry burst through the door with a cloth shopping bag hanging off his shoulder. "Sorry I'm late mate," he said, moving quickly to pack away the cold stuff before moving to retrieve the medication in the bottom. "Work ran over. I picked up some more eggs. And I got that pain medicine, too."

   A shuffling of fabric. A blond head poked out from beneath a blanket. "Harry you didn't have to-"

   "Yes I did. I promised your mate Bucky I'd look after you while he's at basic. And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

   It hadn't been too hard to insinuate himself into their lives after his arrival. He'd pawned himself off as the son of some family that knew Steve's grandparents back in Ireland. Claimed he was sent off to boarding school as a boy and that's why he spoke closer to proper English rather than Irish. Throwing in a few fabricated family stories that lined up with some of the stuff Steve's mom had told him as he was growing up, and saving him during an asthma attack after getting the tar beat out of him had won them over.

   Harry read the label before dealing out a dose and fixing up some toast and juice. "The next time you feel the need to stand up for yourself at least have enough sense to grab some kind of shield," he said as he brought everything over on a small tray to the sofa for his charge.

   Steve sat up, groaning as he did. His entire body hurt. "Yeah, well, you try fending off four guys built like brick outhouses," he said, reaching for the medicine and taking it quickly with a grimace. "See how you fare."

   "Steven, I'm twice your size and in case you've forgotten I attended a military school. I can take care of myself. It's you I'm worried about," he said. "And eat your toast this time. You won't get any better if you don't eat."

   It was like this every time the young man got hurt. He became increasingly reckless. And Harry had to nurse him back to health, using his magic sparingly on him. It was imperative that the future Captain America knew nothing of magic and wizards and the world that exists right alongside his own.

   So little by little each day, Harry would heal him. A hairline fracture here. A few nicks and cuts there where he wouldn't notice them missing. Ease a headache or an asthma attack with a bit of home remedy herbal tea.

**o0o**

   Steve Rogers finds out about magic a month and a half after meeting Hadrian "Harry" Granger.

   The day had started out like any other day when the man was determined to follow Bucky and enlist. Another location. Another fake name attempt.

   Another 4F stamp.

   "I know it doesn't seem it right now, but it could be worse."

   "I want to fight. I can do so much more than just... collecting scrap for the cause."

   "I know you can. And you'll get your chance Steven. I know you will. But until then you have a warm bed, at least two meals a day, and someone to make sure you don't get killed before you even make it across the Atlantic."

   Harry picked at his hamburger, having ordered it solely to take it home for Steve to have later. He'd wrapped it up in the newspaper it was served on and tucked it in his bag for later, silently placing a preserving charm upon it to keep it from spoiling on the walk back to the flat.

   They'd decided to take a small detour. Steve had run out of books to read and Harry, well, Harry was just a shadow really. Sticking to his side, making sure he got along alright while his normal guardian angel was off learning how to shoot things and wage war the muggle way.

   It wasn't until they decided to take a shortcut that Harry felt it. The shift of air and a whiff of magic. He moved with a fighter's instinct, placing himself between the bullet and his unsuspecting charge. It tore through the shoulder of his dominant wand arm, so he switched hands quickly and cast a powerful stunner before a second bullet could be fired.

   "Steven stay down!" Harry growled at him as he let off another couple of brightly colored spells.

   "You've been shot!"

   Harry ground his teeth, doing his best to ignore the pain and keep his strength up despite the fire in his shoulder that indicated the damned bullet must have been coated in some kind of poison potion.

   "Avada kedavra!" he cried, pushing as much magic as he could into the curse and flinging two in quick succession before staggering to lean against the wall. He lifted his wand one more time, producing a patronus and sending it with his usual message for a clean-up.

   "What... what in the world-"

   "A wizard did it," Harry slurred. "We gotta... we gotta get out of here..."

   It was another week later before Steve and Harry managed to get around to talking about what had happened.

**o0o**

   "You saved my life."

   "It's what I do," Harry had answered back automatically as he held yet another poultice to his shoulder. He'd managed to draw out all the poison already, and now did it to just help soothe the inflamed skin as the healing potions did their job to speed up his recovery. "You've probably guessed that I don't actually work in a butcher's shop."

   "Yeah, I sort of figured."

   "I'm a spy for British Intelligence," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie. He had done some intelligence work for the British Ministry. Wasn't his fault it led to him discovering the true depth of the corruption and ousting the lot of them. "My cover was blown and I had to leave. It's just chance that we met really."

   "So everything you've told me is a lie?"

   "No. I am Harry Granger. The Grangers are friends to the Rogers family, your grandparents. I did in fact attend military boarding school and was immediately thrust into war." None of what he said was a lie. Just not all of it applied to himself. There was, actually, a Harrison "Harry" Granger. His dear friend Hermione's Grandfather. And Harry Granger was the name assigned to him for the mission, bound to him even if only temporarily through blood documents. And don't even get him started on Hogwarts...

   "And you killed people with a stick."

   "A highly specialized and experimental stick."

   "You're a terrible liar."

   "Well, would you rather the truth? It sounds more ridiculous than my alleged fictions."

   "If you would."

   Harry watched him closely. In the short time he had known his charge, and had smooth talked his way into a friendship with him, he had grown quite fond of him. He was nothing like Tony's stories had portrayed him to be. Then again, Tony's stories were recountings of Howard's. And Howard's interactions with Steven before the serum had been limited to a single appearance - to get that bloody serum injected into him. Even his own research into Captain America had been... lacking the personal depth necessary to truly understand the man. Now, he couldn't help but be reminded of himself in the early days of the war. Before he and Luna...

   He cut that thought off before it could even properly begin.

   It was his fondness for the punk that compelled him to make a decision. One that given his current special privileges in regards to the wizarding world's strict laws, he would never have been given the option to make in the first place. "If I tell you, honestly, all that I can safely tell you, would it change your opinion of me?"

   Steve looked him over cautiously. If not for the fact that he knew he hadn't been injured in a while. The... strangeness from the week before left him with scuffed knees at worst. So he knew he wasn't on anything all that strong around the time of it happening or since. The man he'd come to call his friend, who helped patch him up - seamlessly stepping into the role Bucky had always filled in his life - and made sure he looked after himself had gone from a happy-go-lucky jokester to a cold blooded killer in a matter of seconds.

   It was frightening just as much as it was curious. It was some strange voodoo-like force that he could only scarcely recall. But then the last of it - those two words - just two words and two more men were dead. "I reserve the right to kick you out of my apartment if I don't like what I hear."

   Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding until he nodded and set the poultice aside before bandaging up his shoulder again. "The most important thing for you to keep in mind when something highly unusual happens is a very simple phrase. A Wizard did it."

   For the remainder of the evening Harry explained the basics of magic and wizardry. Giving small examples of what he was capable of with his wand outside of fighting and killing. He showed him the useful and the amusing. When prompted by questions Steve had, he explained it as best as he could in muggle terms. He also explained about what his job was, sort of. Bound as he was by his Unspeakable Oaths he couldn't divulge his current mission exactly, nor his position as Agent Grim for W.A.R.D. but he could spin a mostly truthful yarn around it.

   "I work for what amounts to the secret service. Military intelligence," he said. "I have a lot of enemies who have these devices that can track my magic." While it was a blatant lie, he was in fact waiting for most of them to arrive for another assassination attempt on Steve rather than being tracked himself. But there were just some things you just couldn't tell a muggle. And time travel, even as limited in scope as it was, is one of those things.

   "That's why you keep taking them and destroying them, right?" Steve asked. "So once you get away they can't track you."

   He nodded. "That's the gist of it," Harry said quietly before standing to his full height and turning towards the spare room that had been Bucky's before the man left. "I'll pack up and be out by morning."

   "Did I say you had to leave?"

   "Look, Steven. Clearly my... checkered history is coming back to take a large bite out of my rear end. Unfortunately your association with me has placed you in danger as well. I cannot have that on my conscience."

   "Then you should've thought of that before making a promise to my best friend."

   "You don't need anyone to take care of you."

   "You're right, I don't. But it helps to have someone drag me out of a gutter so I don't have to crawl home with cracked ribs," Steve replied seriously. "I think you've been on your own so long you've forgot what it's like to have someone watching your back."

   Harry smirked. "Perhaps."

   "I'm not going to lie. This is too big for me to wrap my head around. I'm going to need some time."

   Harry gave him a small nod and left him to his thoughts, retreating to his room. The metal frame of the old twin size bed creaked as he sat and picked up the wind up alarm on the small table beside it. Avada green eyes glanced at the band on his wrist, watching as another day's count wound down. He was one step closer to the end of his mission, which he should have been relieved about. It meant his unlikely friend's safety would be assured. The window of opportunity seized by the dark wizards working with that muggle group HYDRA was closing.

   Part of Harry dreaded the day he would be forced to go back to his world. Back to his empty life. Sure he had the Weasleys - and Tony, too of course. And yet, he still didn't want to go back. Back to that empty old house at Grimmauld Place. Back to splitting his time between using his seats to thwart the machinations of the Wizengamot and the mask he wore for his friends and family to make them think he was doing alright. It was tiring, and he was quickly losing his patience with it all. So much power constantly simmering just below the surface. He was a creature of blood and wrath, a weapon forged for war and made for the sole purpose to destroy. The Chosen One. The Savior. The Man-Who-Vanquished.

   But here in this flat, Harry wasn't any of those things. He was free from the legend that had been built around the scar on his head and the dark wizard that had placed it there. Free to simply be Harry.

   Just Harry.

**o0o**

   It had been quiet for a week assassination attempts wise. Harry's shoulder was doing much better. Still stiff, but he had nearly full mobility again. Enough to do basic wandwork should he choose, but not enough to wage all out war if he needed.

   Thankfully, the most he'd had to do was cut Steve's pant leg off in order to treat an injury. "I don't know how you get yourself into these situations," he'd muttered under his breath as he cleaned the wound. "But you had best stop it. Otherwise there will be nothing left for Private Barnes to return to."

   "Hey, it's not my fault the guy had a bat."

   "A bat? You expect me to believe this-" he snapped, pouring a bit more of his potion over the puncture wound for emphasis, "was done by a mere baseball bat?"

   "No. That was done by a nail. The guy hit me and I fell on it."

   Harry sighed, wiping at the hole in the man's leg again with the potion-damp cloth. "Well, at least you won't get an infection and die." He set the bottle to the side and picked up another.

   "What's that one?" Steve asked, eyeing the dropper full of liquid. He was still wary of Harry's various home remedies now that he knew about the more... unnatural properties of them and the man that made them. But he was trying to be open minded about it. After all, Harry had never given him any reason to think he'd use all that power on him for anything more than healing and helping. And protecting him of course.

   "Essence of Dittany. The other one disinfects the wound and starts closing it from the inside out. This one heals the skin. It's commonly used to treat surface lesions."

   "Can't you just... you know." The blond waved his hand around as if holding a wand, making swishing movements. It was something he'd started doing after Harry not so gently warned him not to speak of magic in public lest they both get in serious trouble.

   Harry rolled his eyes and carefully applied the few drops he needed to the puncture. "I could, but due to the proximity to other, more delicate parts of your person I'd rather not risk it."

   "what's the worst that could happen?"

   Harry smirked. "I'd like to hope you would want children one day, Steven. If I make even the slightest mistake with my incarnation then... I'm just going to say that it is a very unpleasant sensation having one's bits accidentally placed in peril."

   The man's face paled as he swallowed whatever retort he'd had to say. Harry chuckled darkly as he finished up treating his friend's leg. He felt bad about ruining one of his better pairs of pants, so he shrunk one of his own a few sizes for Steve to change into.

**o0o**

   A few more failed attempts to get into the army and a few more time traveling dark wizards and HYDRA agents later, Harry and Steve were sat in a booth in a bar.

   "That's the fifth woman that's tried to flirt with you in the last two hours," Steve said when Harry had come back with another round of drinks.

   Harry shrugged and took a swig of his pint. "Yeah, well she can piss off too. They don't want me, they just like my voice." He glanced over to the woman at the bar that had just been flirting with him as she turned her attention to some other tall dark and handsome. "Not really my type anyway."

   "You do have a type then. Could have fooled me."

   Harry glared across the table at him, but let his expression cool when he saw his friend was smiling at him, his words spoken in jest. "Alright... fine. Say it. I know you want to."

   "How could none of them be your type? Tall. Short. Blond. Brunette. Heck, one of them was even a red-head," Steve said, not missing the shudder that went through his friend across the table at the mention of red hair. "I'm not an expert, and the Lord knows I have no idea how to talk to a pretty dame but it's almost like..." Harry began to fidget as Steve started to put two and two together.

   Before he could continue Harry picked up his drink and finished it off before getting to his feet. "I need the loo," he muttered, leaving the table before the realization could be said.

   It wasn't a lie, he really did need to go. But it also gave him time to think. He splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the dingy mirror, chastising himself. "You're a sentimental old idiot and you'll have to obliviate him anyway. Stick to the mission."

   He would have berated himself even more had he not heard glass breaking on the other side of the door. "Son of a hippogriff," he said to himself as he peeked out of the restroom before rushing out the door to help his friend get out of yet another scrape.

**o0o**

   Steve and Harry sat on the curb outside the butcher's shop two blocks from their apartment. Each man with a hunk of beef draped on the side of their face. They hadn't discussed what had brought the barroom brawl on, but they were both rather sure that neither of them would be welcome at that establishment again. "What possessed you to think you could take on a bloody lumberjack of a man like that?"

   "The lady said no. He didn't get the hint," Steve said, causing Harry to almost laugh. "Why'd you jump in. He was twice as big as you, too."

   "You're my friend," Harry said with a shrug, causing him to wince some. "And I don't like bullies. No matter how big and dangerous they are."

   They each had steak and potatoes that night. Harry refused to heal more than necessary on either of them as a lesson to Steve about the consequences of his actions. Though, to be fair, Harry would have done the same thing in his friend's shoes.

**o0o**

   Harry was standing by the window as stared at his wrist. Watching as the minutes ticked down.

   There was a knock on his bedroom door.

   "It's open," he said loud enough to be heard.

   Steve came in and sat on the side of his friend's bed with a letter in his hands. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Bucky made it through training. He's coming home for a while before they ship him out."

   "That's good. Great actually."

   "You don't sound convinced."

   "I'm just tired," Harry lied turning away from the window with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Trying to keep you out of trouble by myself is hard work. It'll be nice to finally have backup."

   "I'm not that bad," Steve insisted, then in a more serious tone he said, "I think we should tell him about your magic."

   "No."

   "I'm not going to lie to him. He's my best friend, and he lives here, too."

   "I know that. I'm not asking you to lie."

   "It's still a lie, even if it's just by omission."

   "Yes, but it's also my secret, not yours."

   "You made it my secret, too when you told me about it."

   Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging as if he had taken on yet another heavy burden. "Steven, please. Bucky cannot know about this. The more people that find out, the greater risk to my life and theirs. In a best case scenario I'm fined, spend a little time in jail, your memories of magic and of me are erased forever."

   "What? That's impossible. You can't just make people forget something like that."

   "You can, actually. There's an entire department of people whose only job is to go around erasing the memories of muggles who have witnessed magic." Harry shook his head, then turned his green eyes back to his friend. "Look. That day your life was in my hands and you trusted me to keep you safe, and have continued to do so. By telling you about me, and my people and our world, I have repaid that trust by placing my life in your hands. Don't make me regret doing so."

   Steve understood what his friend was asking of him. And he didn't like it. But he also knew that what Harry was saying had been right. Finally, he heard Harry speak again. "Look, I'll think about it. It's my secret so he should hear it from me. That way if he has any questions I can help him understand."

**o0o**

   Two days after Steve got Bucky's letter and six days before Harry would be sent back to his own time the two men had gone out to see a film. There wasn't much option in what was playing. Pretty much only the one choice unless they wanted to find another theatre. Finding themselves with a little extra money after working at a local scrap metal center, recycling every piece of metal they could for the war effort, they figured taking an evening free of worry and toil was just what the doctor ordered.

   With enough change left over in their pockets they'd stopped off to grab a couple of hotdogs and a drink to split between them.

   They'd had a great time. Despite Harry's paranoia - constant vigilance! - he was far more relaxed than he'd been in a long time. Maybe that was why he let his guard down. Why he opened himself up a bit more. Allowed himself to just be himself instead of the constant protector. Instead of the powerful dark wizard slayer he had become. By the time they made it back to the apartment Harry realized he hadn't laughed so much since his first year at Hogwarts, trying Every Flavor Beans with his new best friends.

   Perhaps he was still reeling from the high of being so carefree for the first time in years. HIs judgement clouded by laughter and smiles and closeness to another person who didn't care who he was or what he could do. Didn't want to know him for his fame or his money and titles. Perhaps he was just a foolish old man who should have known better. Who should have put the mission first and put his own childish desires aside. But after seeing that smile turned to him, lighting up those already bright blue eyes, his reckless inner Gryffindor took a chance and seized the moment.

   He'd darted back just as quickly as he'd snaked in and kissed him, horrified at his own action rather than the implications of it. Harry was already apologizing profusely, stuttering through it as Steve awkwardly tried to take control of the situation.

   "Well," he said. "When you said those gals weren't your type..."

   "Yeah..."

   "Can't say I'm not, uh, flattered-"

   "I get it. Let's just pretend this never happened," Harry said, getting to his feet and storming straight to his room, mentally kicking himself the entire time. He threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow with a groan of frustration.

   Steve on the other hand still sat on the sofa, frowning in concentration.

**o0o**

   Harry had laid prone on his bed, hiding from the world for at least two hours if the clock beside his bed was anything to go by when he heard a knock on the door.

   "Go away!" he mumbled. The knock came again. "Go away!" he tried again, louder.

   "No."

   "Too bad."

   "We need to talk about this."

   "Talk about what? Nothing happened."

   "Harry, just let me in."

   "What part of go away don't you understand, Steven?"

   "Harry... Please."

   With a loud, frustrated groan he pulled himself up from the bed, shuffling across the floor to open the door. He could have just used his magic, but he couldn't be bothered to control it. Given his mood he'd likely have ripped it from the hinges.

   He stood, hair sticking out in all directions, in the doorway of his bedroom and stared at him. "There. I opened the door."

   "Can I come in?"

   Harry rolled his eyes and turned to moodily go back to his bed, but given the situation decided against it and turned instead to brood at the window. "I'm surprised you want to be in the same room as me now."

   "It's... well... Not something I've considered for myself. And I certainly won't lie it makes me more uncomfortable than the whole other thing," Steve said, making the swishing motion of using a wand when he said 'other thing'. "It's not natural."

   "Neither is magic according to you muggles," Harry replied morosely. "I assure you, tonight's incident will not be repeated." He paused, thinking for a moment before turning his head some to watch him from the corner of his eye. "You have been a good friend to me and to ruin it now would be stupid of me."

   Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Up until now you haven't given me any reason to worry about it. Heck, I'd never have known unless you told me. Which probably would have been a better route."

   Harry couldn't help but snort as he choked back a laugh at his own ineptness. "Yes, well, my friends in school always said I was reckless. Never listening to common sense and jumping headfirst into danger."

   "And that's why you're a spy."

   "And that's why I'm a spy. Never short on intrigue and excitement." Harry gave a weak smile, knowing it would come across in his voice.

   They would be alright. Awkward for what little time he had remaining with him in this time, but nothing so terrible he couldn't navigate it with a bit of the old Potter luck.

**o0o**

   Harry looked at his wrist.

   A few more days for him yet. Time enough to get his few personal affects together out of the flat and get Bucky settled back in.

   Time enough to erase the knowledge of magic from Steve's memory - something Harry didn't want to do because he had become such a good friend - out of pure necessity for the continued timeline.

   Time enough to write up his report and put it into a time capsule.

   He should have known the day they would be meeting Bucky at the bus station wasn't going to go well when he realized the potion he'd received with the mission report and the temporal portkey had yet to be used.

   He had a pretty good idea he would need the potion in order to gain the portkey to be placed into the capsule. But he wasn't certain how.

   Not until he uncorked it that morning out of curiosity and sniffed it.

   "Fuck," he muttered to himself as he smelled Polyjuice base.

**o0o**

   His belongings were packed in his bag in the living room, left on the end of the sofa where he would sleep before heading out the following day.

   The morning had been uneventful. They got up, had breakfast. Harry had tidied up the second bedroom for the soldier's return home and the pair set off.

   Trouble didn't start until after the two childhood friends had been reunited and they were on their way to a diner for lunch to celebrate. Steve was recounting the time they were kicked out of a bar for fighting after balls of steel Steve Rogers jumped in when a lady started getting hassled for turning down a guy who in Harry's words was basically built like a lumberjack. Having been there for the event, Harry didn't pay much attention, instead focusing on the creeping suspicion that they were being followed.

   The suspicion went from confirmed when he noticed a few faces in the crowded street behind them when they'd stopped in order to wait for the clear to cross. "Hey, you two clearly have some catching up to do," Harry said. "I've got a thing I need to take care of for work, but I'll see you back at the flat after lunch."

   "Come on man, I just got back! From the way Stevie tells it you two couldn't keep out of trouble."

   Harry smiled politely. "Yes, well, he can tell you all about it at lunch. And to make it up to you I'll make a dinner so delicious you'd swear I'd done it by magic," he said, looking from Bucky to Steve, emphasizing the final word so his friend understood that there was a situation coming up. One that he needed them clear of.

   Steve nodded. "Yeah, come on Buck. We'll head to that place around the corner from the apartment."

   Silently Harry cast a few charms on his two friends. One to alert him if they were in trouble, and others to help keep them obscured until they had reached safety. Just a few notice-me-nots and a variation of the disillusionment that Hermione had cooked up for him years ago. Ducking into an alley he took the potion bottle that had weighed heavily in his pocket, grimacing at the taste before transfiguring his clothing to match what Steve had been wearing.

   With his wand tucked up his sleeve, Harry stepped back out into the busy street in the direction his friends had gone before leading the tails off in another direction entirely.

   When all was said and done, he'd come out of it with a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. "Accio tempus portus," he said, wandlessly summoning a severed arm from the bodies littering the vacant lot he'd led them to for the fight. He ripped it off the wrist and compared it to the one on his own. It was indeed the same. Zeroed out while his own still had a few days left to go.

   He pocketed the wristband and held his wand arm up again. "Expecto patronum!" he exclaimed, calling forth his patronus with the first happy memory that had come to mind. The evening he'd spent with Steve at the cinema. Splitting a coke and munching hotdogs on the walk home. Once he recovered from the shock of seeing it take form, he gave his message and sent it on to MACUSA's cleanup department, assuring them that the mission was over and he would be returning to file his time capsule in the next few days.

   Harry found a safe place to hide before the auror and obliviator crews showed up, waiting for the polyjuice to wear off. He cast his patronus again, staring at the eagle that had formed from the blue-grey mist and perched itself on a rusted pipe nearby.

   "Hermione's going to kill me for this."

**o0o**

   They'd had a good night. Harry had made pork chops with roasted potatoes and carrots. A side salad.

   "We should keep him," Bucky had said after the first few bites. "I haven't had food like this since that time we snuck into that fancy debutante ball." That got a laugh out of the scrawny blond punk. "And to think, you've been eating like this while I've been stuck with gruel rations. How in the world did you get all this, Harry?"

   He shrugged. "I know a guy," he said, meaning the butcher they'd gotten the steaks from before. "He got one look at how skinny this guy is once and now he gives me a little extra on the sly to make sure the kid eats right."

   "Hey!" Steve exclaimed in playful protest. Bucky shook his head with a laugh. "Only you, Steve. Only you," the soldier said between bites.

   The two men fought to stay awake later in the evening. Harry sent Steve off to bed, claiming the adrenaline from all the day's excitement was finally wearing off rather than telling him it was the mild sleeping drought he'd slipped into the man's coffee after dinner.

   As Harry readied the sofa for himself to sleep, Bucky stopped to put a hand on his shoulder from behind. "Thanks," he said. "for looking after him."

   "Hey, you guys gave me a place to stay when I first landed in the states. It's the least I could do. I just didn't realize how much trouble one person could get into."

   "Yeah. Well I appreciate it. Was able to keep my head on training knowing he had someone to watch his back. It was just luck that you came along when you did."

   "And luck that you've come home when you have," Harry said. "I got my marching orders the same day Steve got your letter. I'm getting sent back to my unit now that the problem I ran into back home is sorted."

   "Didn't know you were-"

   "Let's just say I cracked a code I wasn't meant to and some rather unsavory German gentlemen found out," Harry said, the lie rolling smoothly off his lips. The insinuation that he was a british intelligence code breaker came across quite clearly. Bucky gave a nod of understanding before heading off to his room. "Goodnight James," Harry said from where he had stretched out on the sofa.

   "Night, Harry."

**o0o**

   He had waited hours to ensure both men were sound asleep before creeping into Steve's room. It would be the only opportunity he had, and hated that he had to even do it. But the man knew far too much. Harry couldn't risk changing history.

   He checked that the man was in a deep sleep, deeper than normal, before wandlessly using a sticking charm to keep one eye open. He just needed to do it long enough to use legilimency. Sort through the man's memories and find anything connected to Harry's use of magic. What he was doing tugged at his heartstrings and, ultimately he decided against complete obliviation. Instead, he created a block. Herding all memories of Harry's magic, all knowledge of wizards and potions, and locking it away tightly before he pulled out of his friend's mind completely.

   He would remember Harry. Harry the man who had worked for British Intelligence as a spy. Harry Granger, the eccentric man who liked to cook and would occasionally patch him up after a bar brawl or getting beat up by bullies in a back alley. The man who was the son of people who were friends with Steven's grandparents in Ireland. But he would never remember magic. He'd never remember Harry's awkward and reckless kiss in the late evening after movies and hot dogs and a shared coke. Nor the dead bodies that Harry had left in his wake whenever Steve had been with him and the attempted time traveling assassins showed up. Once done, he released the sticking charm and let his blue eye close back.

   Before slipping from the room, Harry drew a deep breath and steadied his nerves. There was one more thing he needed to do. Spur of the moment but he knew he'd hate himself if he didn't do something to help his friend after he left.

   Raising the Elder Wand, pointing it at the sleeping man who had wormed his way into Harry's affections just by treating him as he did everyone else, he began to soft incantations. Powerful enchantments that Luna used to place on their son nightly before they had been able to be hidden away. Unbreakable charms that Hermione had created during the war and placed on Harry after he'd been forced to give his son up for his protection.

   Harry knew how Captain America's story ended. He'd done the research. He'd heard the stories from Tony that Howard had once told him. The plane was going to go down and take a very good man with it. But between now and then, he would be protected from at least his own foolishness.

   He put more power into the spells than he had intended, and had used the more powerful of the wands in his possession to do so in order to ensure maximum potency.

   Satisfied that the man's entire auric field was like one massive magical cocoon wrapped around him, Harry slipped from the room and back to the sofa.

**o0o**

   Harry had made breakfast for his friends, sticking around long enough to ensure the enchantments he had placed on his friend in the night had settled into place and the memory block held with no ill effects. Satisfied that he had done a good job of it and didn't accidentally break the man's brain, he bid his friends farewell, promising that if they all survived the war, he'd visit them again.

   The last few days he spent in 1943 were filled with paperwork and debriefs with MACUSA. He secured a polyjuice potion base from an apothecary for quite a lot of gold before creating the time capsule and leaving it in the care of the MACUSA Department of Mysteries. All the while he kept his mask of professionalism in place and his occlumency barriers raised. He could fall apart when he returned home. Not one moment before.

**o0o**

**_2008_ **

**_MALIBU_ **

 

   Harry staggered through the door stinking of gin. It was the only thing he had left at Grimmauld Place.

   "JARVIS, tell Tony I'm back on the map," he said, his words slurring together.

   "Already done, sir."

   "Thanks."

   Harry went straight to bed, sleeping two days straight from exhaustion and depression.

   When Tony stopped long enough to ask, all Harry would tell him that he didn't want the family to see him like this, then promptly told him to piss off and leave him alone.

   It took Miss Potts and a threat to pour scalding coffee over his head to get him to crawl out of bed and into the shower. And another to get him out of his room.

   "Have trouble with work?"

   "You could say that," Harry replied. "I think I'll head back to London."

   Tony looked up from his phone, frowning at him. "You're not supposed to go back for another four days."

   "I know. But... something's come up that needs my personal attention. If I don't take care of it, I'm afraid things might just _explode_. It may take a while to go through everything in _the vault_ ," he said, choosing his words carefully in front of his son's PA. Tony thought for just a split second before nodding.

   "You should get a PA. Makes my world a hell of a lot easier."

   "Yeah, I should. Maybe I can steal Miss Potts away and-"

   "Oh no. No no no. You can't have my Pepper. You get your own Pepper. This one's mine."

   "Mr. Stark-"

   "Miss Potts, how much does Tony pay you? I'll double it. No, triple it."

   "Well when you put it that way-"

   "Whatever he offers, I'll match it and throw in your own private helicopter."

   "I'll give you a jet."

   "And the spring line of your choice."

   "Okay.... yeah. I can't do that," Harry said, laughing and thankful for his son's distraction from his foul mood.

**o0o**

 

**ENGLAND**

 

   One week after his return from 1943, Harry emerged from the Vault, a windowless, doorless chamber made of the strongest goblin metals the Goblins of Gringotts could find and have forged. The only known chamber of it's make, it was the only thing strong enough to withstand and contain the full force of Harry Potter's devastating, Deathly Hallow fueled magic when he felt the unrelenting need to simply let go.

   Two weeks after his return, he sat in a muggle pub, staring down a pint of bitter. He went home with a pretty blond thing that night. Everything was wrong. The legs were too long. The arms had too much muscle. Hair not quite the right shade of blond and his voice too... too... British.

   Two months on, eight more trysts with blond haired blue eyed muggle men, and Harry finally broke.

   He found himself sobbing at the kitchen table in the Burrow. Hermione sitting close with her arm around the back of his shoulders and Ron pouring him another shot of firewhisky.

   His Unspeakable Oath prevented him from telling them about the nature of the mission he was on and the specifics of how he got from point A to point B, but not about the entire experience.

   "Oh Harry..." Hermione whispered after he had cast his Patronus for the first time since returning. Showing them the bald eagle that had replaced his faithful stag. "What happened?"

   He picked up the shot, eyeballing it a moment. "His name was Steven, and he was a soldier in World War 2. But when I met him he was just this scrawny punk that just couldn't say no to a fight..."


End file.
